Jay's Equation
by PrizJefra
Summary: Whilst pursuing a case the team meets the charming A.J. O'Rourke who immediately sets his sights on Morgan. Both jealous and suspicious, Reid is forced to look deeper into the affair when no one else will. But will he uncover the truth before it's too late? Reid/ Morgan Morga/male!OC
1. Chapter 1

At precisely 10:07 AM on a Thursday morning Agent A.J. O'Rourke stepped out of the elevator and into the halls of the FBI unit. Eight brisk steps brought him to the double glass doors and from then on three more brought him to the top of the stairs leading into the bull pen. He stood there at the top of the stairs, his head swinging from side-to-side as he attempted to make sense of it all. After a moment's hesitation he set aside the large cardboard boxes that he had been holding and fetched himself a cup of coffee from the snack shelf. He swallowed the lukewarm coffee in one long gulp, burped, sighed, picked up his boxes and made his way down into the chaos of the bull pen. By the time he had stopped beside Reid's desk to ask a passing agent for directions to Hotch's office it was 10:15. And yet it was Reid who had been the one to point him towards the foreboding stairs.

"Thanks, brother." the man had said. His bottom lip slipped from between his teeth when he spoke, exposing a plump and honest smile that made Reid feel as if he alone had rescued the man from an impeding tragedy. The time was 10:16.

Years later Reid would still wonder if he could have done something to alter the chain of events that swept through their lives and, like a storm, left the team reeling. After all, the man was nothing if not a storm. But for all of their predictability-in-chaos storms could not be stopped. Reid remembered every minute of O'Rourke's dramatic entrance into their lives because every minute held the slow, deliberate reverence of the man's character. Something as simple as the stirring of tea or laughter was carried out with such consideration and possession that time and time again Reid could only watch the man in awe.

And thus there _had_ been time to do something in those first few fatal moments. He could have launched one of his 'magic' rockets the man's way when he was getting his coffee. Or, more practical still, he could have kept his mouth shut when O'Rourke asked the agent for directions to Hotch's office. Maybe by some miracle she wouldn't have known the answer, maybe O'Rourke would have gone off in search of Hotch down the wrong hall, maybe Hotch would have called them to the table then and, within thirty minutes, they would have been off, leaving O'Rourke to wander the building..

No, Reid didn't believe that. There were too many _maybes_ to that philosophy. The fact of the matter was an equation had drawn itself into existence when O'Rourke had been born. With the addition of the man, the multiplication of evil, and the subtraction of sympathy there was only one possible outcome. The differences brought on by ifs and maybes would not have changed their fate.

Still, from time to time Reid couldn't help but wonder if he should have tried harder to protect his team, especially Morgan. Anything, he realized, negligible or not, would have been better than the final outcome.


	2. Chapter 2

The floor of the jet rumbled anxiously beneath the team's feet. The glasses in the built-in bar clinked against each other and the smaller objects on the tables between them jittered and jumped their way towards the edges. Everything seemed to be moving in the fast and nervous way that so often characterized the start of a new case. Rossi reached out and grabbed a pen that had rolled its way to the end of the table and held it up, still quivering, to the team.

"And they say we should be _grateful_." He said with a wave of the pen. JJ raised her eyebrows and shook her head.

"I don't know, Rossi. Not all of the teams get to fly out on a Gulfstream bizjet."

"No, they fly commercial where the _bar_ is brought to _them_."

They chuckled at that. Many of their colleagues had loudly lamented the fact that the BAU had been provided with its own personal jet. But what many of them did not realize was that it was a necessity, not a gift. Did they not think, Morgan was always quick to point out to the snickering clusters, that each person in the BAU would rather have the ease of mind that came with a slower form of travel? Only a strange and horrific sort of calling would require the on-demand speed of the jet. Rossi often kept this depressing thought at bay with his irony-fueled humor.

The laptop gave a warning beep and Garcia's faced popped up on screen. That day she had chosen a surprisingly leveled attire: purple cat ears with dark purple lipstick and a trail of blue beads around her neck. It emphasized the coolly mischievous look that she settled upon them all. She had something pressing on her mind and, seeing this, they all leaned in closer to the screen.

"Hey," she said softly, tapping a fuzzy blue pen against her palm. "Did you guys meet the new guy yet?"

"New guy? What new guy, mama?"

"The _new_ new guy. There's a new new new guy who's going to be joining you on the case."

"Really?" Emily said. "Why weren't we told about this?"

"'cuz it was spur of the moment and when I say spur of the moment I mean Pepe Le Pew going after his love spur of the moment. Guy's from New York but he moved to SF where he worked on the original case. By some lucky coincidence he was in Quantico when we got the call so he's going with you."

"Some coincidence!" Rossi said but JJ was giving the screen a funny look.

"Garcia…" she said in a low, warning tone. "You're not telling us something…"

Garcia sighed though they could all tell that she was eager to spill her personal insight. "While you gentleman of the BAU are all fantastic supermen of the era and I love you a lot this guy is something else."

"Meaning?"

Garcia took a breath in and groaned through her teeth. "Agent A.J. O'Rourke is hot. I'm talking summer sun hot, backyard bar-b-q hot, suntan lotion smeared all over a-"

Garcia suddenly fell silent seeing as the team had done so already. They were all looking away from her, towards the entrance of the jet where Hotch had walked in, followed by Agent O'Rourke. Reid suddenly recognized him as the man that he had talked to earlier. Hotch and O'Rourke stood rigid, indecisive on how to move forward from Garcia's passionate tirade. O'Rourke smiled, his posture awkward behind the box that he held.

"Aaaaand he's standing right there," Garcia said and blew a strand of hair from her suddenly flushed face. "Oh my god, he's standing right there. He's right behind me. Lord help me."

"Everybody I'd like you to meet Agent A.J. O'Rourke." Hotch introduced them each in turn as the new agent went around shifting his box and shaking their hands. "O'Rourke worked with the SFPD department on the case. He'll be coming along to provide his input."

"What brings you to Quantico?" JJ asked politely although secretly bemused as to why anyone in their right mind would move from San Francisco to Quantico.

"Er…well. Vacation." The agents glanced at each other with amusement but he simply laughed and raised his hands as if to say 'you got me.' "I consider anywhere a vacation so long as it's far away enough from work."

_But why Quantico_, Reid wanted to ask but decided to drop it in favor of the case. He watched O'Rourke take a spot next to Morgan. The two men shared a cordial smile and Reid averted his eyes.

"Garcia?"

The technical analyst reappeared on screen with her face set in a professionally watchful look. Unbeknownst to the others she was trying not to show how mortified she was by her outburst in O'Rourke's presence. She cleared her throat and pressed a few buttons on her end. Two images appeared on their screen. One was of an impressive looking man in his mid-forties with a steel gaze and frowning lips. The other was of a scragglier looking man with wild eyes and tousled hair. Images of gore and death popped up around them like speech bubbles testifying to their crime. "Four years ago Robert Horowitz and Patrick Yunus were arrested on separate accounts of murder. Between them they had killed twenty four men, women, and children over the span of what SFPD believes to be twelve years statewide, give or take years unaccounted for due to them not finding all of the bodies. Robert, for his part, only killed once every two years whereas Patrick was a bit more erratic – that is to say he killed eighteen people. Robert did not have a preference type whereas Patrick only killed men. When Patrick was caught he claimed that he was – get this – inspired by Robert who he had met on the deep web. This ultimately led to Robert's demise and he confessed to all of the murders. They've been in jail ever since."

"Robert was your classic psychopath," O'Rourke added. "He came across as cold and unnerving to some and downright charming to others. Hell, no matter what he did he had a way of convincing you that he was innocent. He only snapped when one of the female agents implied that she didn't think him capable of committing the crimes. Patrick, on the other hand, was the complete opposite. We gathered that he had been working in Robert's shadow – trying to recreate his killings through the bits and pieces of information that he could get. Robert was, for all intents and purposes, Patrick's idol."

"You know, the textbook definition of psychopath reads as someone who has the ability to move through two extremes and embody them with precision. To one person a psychopath's stare may be construed as an open invitation while to others that very same stare could be a warning. They're ability to camouflage in any situation is much like a chameleon, actually. It's in this way that they can hold steady jobs in positions of power – perhaps, they're the ones who are best suited for them."

"Like politicians, right." Rossi nodded at Reid's explanation. "So why are we being sent to San Francisco to investigate a closed case?"

"Well… it reopened. A week ago Patrick Yunus committed suicide in jail," Garcia took a deep breath in, "and this is where it gets icky. The day after his death saw the commencement of a killing spree that claimed three lives in San Francisco. Anyone wanna hazard a guess as to the nature of the crimes?"

Emily frowned as she read the file. "The three victims were stabbed multiple times post-mortem and put on display in three different locations: a café, a park, and an unused sewage tunnel. The words, 'the high and mighty will fall' were written on their bodies in black ink."

Garcia nodded. "Mm-hm, right. Which is oddly reminiscent of the Yunus and Patrick murders in which all victims were stabbed to death and bore written numbers on their bodies. One for the first victim, two for the second, and so on and so forth."

"So are we dealing with a copycat?"

No one answered. No one knew how. It would seem that a copycat would be the most logical answer but every so often they stumbled across a case that was so unusual in its parallels that it bordered on paranormal. They had yet to come upon a case that trully boasted a dose of supernaturalism but, as Gideon once noted, there was a first time for everything. Would this be their 'first' brush with the inhumanely uncanny?

Hotch, sensing the sudden discrepancy in the team, prepared to allot each member their duty when he suddenly caught sight of O'Rourke's face. It was drawn in concentration and his skin seemed to have gone pale beneath its honeyed tan. He was looking at the location photos as if he had seen a ghost. Unbeknownst to Hotch at the time A.J. O'Rourke had seen a ghost but not of the human kind. Slowly, O'Rourke raised his cheek from his hand and gazed at Hotch as though he was staring at him through murky waters.

"Wha-?" He said in confusion upon noticing that the team was staring at him.

"Are you alright? We thought we lost you there."

"Oh…yeah…I'm fine," he said airily. He pointed at the image of the above-ground sewer tunnel. Within its large, gaping mouth lay a pale body with sunlight on her face. "I used to go there when was younger. And…um…" he blinked quickly and raised his eyebrows. He seemed surprised and somewhat embarrassed by his own words. Suddenly he shook his shaggy head and sighed indulgently. "It's just…that tunnel was like an unofficial playground for kids. Heh, only the cool kids would dare to go any further than five feet into the darkness. I used to pass by it on the way to the store, that's all."

"If it's an unofficial childhood playground that means that it most likely has sentimental value to the city." Hotch said, "Blake, Morgan I want you to talk to the families of the most recent victims and anybody who will be willing to talk to us regarding the past victims. JJ, I need you to help SFPD handle the press."

"You got it."

"Reid, you and Rossi will handle the interview with Horowitz. O'Rourke and I will remain at the field office-"

"If you don't mind, sir, I'd like to be present at the interview. I worked on Robert's case before. We've built, what'd you'd call, uh, rapport….in the loosest sense of the word." Hotch hesitated.

"Alright. We land in a few hours. I suggest you all try and get some rest."

#

Hours later found the ream exiting the jet. Reid, his mind ever a tangle of unrelated equations, was forced to go back into the plane and retrieve his forgotten files. On his way back out into the wavering sunlight he spotted Morgan and O'Rourke walking behind the rest. There was nothing particularly odd about it, Reid reminded himself, and though his heart had warned him against such actions long ago he couldn't help but strain his ears to catch every word of their conversation.

"…..you ever been to San Francisco?" O'Rourke was saying. He had thrown his arm around Morgan's shoulder and was speaking close to his ear. Reid could sense that Morgan was smiling as he told him that he had gone on a few cases. O'Rourke shook his head. "No, my man, I mean really _been_ there when the lights come up at night or when the band is playing in Yuerba Buena gardens? You know, _right_ on the edge of it all, near the water."

No, Morgan said, he had not been _there_. That's how it was with the job – you could stand in the most beautiful place in the world and still be unable to forget that killers had been there first. O'Rourke's arm slid off of his shoulder and swung lightly between them.

"Mmm, well. I'd like to show you around at some point, then. You know…there are ways to forget. I can prove it."

"You wanna bet on that?"

"You wanna lose shotgun rights?" The two men grinned and bumped their fists, sealing a deal that Reid had not understood. O'Rourke whispered something and Morgan shook his head, chuckling. The whole ordeal was slightly sickening to Reid and before he could stop himself he pushed between the two men with a muttered apology and hurried ahead. _You can't do this to yourself_ _again_, he reminded himself as he sidled into the waiting car, _wasn't once enough already? _As they sped ahead into the deep, broiling heart of the city he made a resolve to focus solely on the case. His gaze fell upon the rearview mirror and he saw O'Rourke in the next car with one arm tossed out the window, his shaggy hair drawing spirals across his face as he grinned at Morgan in the back seat.

For once, Reid hadn't the heart to over analyze his surroundings.


End file.
